The Fortress of Solitude breaks every musical rule except this: It grabs you and never lets go. You walk out transformed by seeing a mirror of your humanity in souls you thought you’d never understand, with Michael Friedman’s melodies thrumming in your heart.

This adaptation of Jonathan Lethem’s acclaimed book has made a stunning debut at Dallas Theater Center with a production to follow at DTC’s co-producing partner, the Public Theater in New York. There’s work to be done in focusing the story and the blurry parental characters, but the show, as conceived and directed by Daniel Aukin, gets the big things right.

Dylan becomes one of the few white children in Brooklyn in the 1970s, a move initiated by his mother, who cuts and runs soon after, leaving a discarded wedding ring for her son to remember her by. Dylan’s story begins when he tells us about Mingus, a black child who protects him from a neighborhood tough.

Dylan and Mingus shape this tale. Adam Chanler-Berat delineates how Dylan’s fear ebbs as their friendship grows. As Mingus, Kyle Beltran’s swagger cloaks a nobility expressed through a voice as ethereal as that of an angel. When Dylan gives his mother’s ring to Mingus, they can fly like their comic-book heroes.

On Eugene Lee’s eloquently spare set, it’s the magic best friends find merging each other’s dreamscapes, portrayed with the homemade touch of shadow projections (by Jeff Sugg) on a hanging white sheet. It’s the chemical charge when bonds are snapped in a faulty familial molecule and reforged into a more enduring one.

Tragic repercussions ensue from Mingus’ identification with Superman and Dylan’s as his sidekick. Mingus’ drive to rescue others is both his glory and his kryptonite when he takes a drastic measure to save his father.

That action is where the friends’ roads diverge. It leads to prison for Mingus and a flight to college and academic success for Dylan, with parallels to the starkly different fates that await too many white and black children in America.

Itamar Moses’ resplendent adaptation falters in the second act as Dylan shifts focus to the musical career of Mingus’ father, Barrett Rude Jr. (Kevin Mambo). Though well performed, true to Lethem’s book and a fine excuse for more of Friedman’s bewitching songs, it’s an emotional detour. The musical would be better served by telling Barrett’s story through the lens of how Mingus changed Dylan, despite Dylan’s attempt to flee like his mother.

With references to Dylan living through other people’s pain — a veiled analogy to the theatergoer’s experience — Dylan needs to step up from sidekick to superhero and find himself by rescuing his friend.

Dylan can’t change Mingus’ physical fate, but they can fly again if Dylan tells the tough truth of Mingus’ story and helps his friend make his mark.